


The Artist

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: Steve McGarrett loses his best friend on a mission. When he gets sent to protect artist and witness, Danny Williams, from the man responsible, he gets more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I now write yearly summer AU first times...who knew? This is finished, I'm just going to be posting as I edit. 
> 
> Huge thanks to smudgegrrl for finding my mistakes and for putting up with waiting months and months for this story to be done, and to tarialdarion for superb cheerleading to help me finish this monster!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Steve stared at the monitor, watching Anton Hesse pace in his cell. He'd expected to feel some sense of satisfaction, at the very least, at seeing Anton behind bars. As much as Steve wanted to see the asshole dead, he was no good to them that way. The information Anton could provide would save countless lives. It just wouldn't bring Freddie back. 

For that alone, Steve wanted to put a bullet between Anton's eyes. 

_Don't let this be for nothing._

Freddie had died for all the lives Anton's information could save. Steve had to let the son of a bitch live. 

But he didn't have to like it.

"Commander."

Steve turned to see Captain Sharp hurrying forward, a tablet in his hand. "Yes, sir," Steve said, years of practice giving it just the right tone.

"We've located Victor Hesse."

Sharp held the tablet out and hit play. Shaky handheld video showed a gunfight that ended in police chasing Victor away in a car. 

"Is he in custody?" 

"No, he got away." Sharp put the camera down next to the monitor where Anton still paced in his cell. "The good news is that it's going to be difficult for him to get off the island."

Steve's head snapped up, eyes fixed on Sharp. "Island?"

"That video was shot near Waianae on Oahu," Sharp said. "How do you feel about at trip home?" 

Not as excited as some might, but if it meant getting Victor Hesse.... Steve glanced back at Anton. "What about him?"

"We'll keep him locked down, safe and sound, until you have the other one in custody. One way or another, we'll get them to talk." 

Steve took one more long look at Anton before meeting Sharp's gaze again. "When do I leave?"

***

The sudden change in speed and the sound of the engines told Steve they were about twenty minutes from landing on Oahu. He opened his eyes from his failed attempt at napping and picked up the file again. 

Daniel Williams – Danny to his friends – the lone survivor of Victor Hesse's latest massacre. Born February 29, 1976, graduated The Pratt Institute School of Art in 1998. Divorced for three years, ex-wife Rachel and new husband Stan Edwards, a commercial real estate developer, moved to Hawaii with Danny's daughter, Grace, six months ago. Danny immediately moved from New Jersey to be near his daughter.

A rare enough occurrence in Steve's life to be of note, given his own family experience. 

Other than that, the file was relatively thin, and offered nothing on why Danny and Rachel divorced—though the short amount of time between the divorce and Rachel's remarriage might be a clue. There were a few pictures of Danny's paintings, which were interesting enough to get more than a brief glance, even from Steve, and a couple of Danny, which were a little too interesting for Steve's own good. 

He pushed that thought and all the reactions that went with it aside. Chief among all the rare things about Danny was that Victor had left him alive, though apparently not by choice. And if Steve knew anything about Victor Hesse—and five years of following him around the globe had ensured he did—it was that Victor did not like loose ends. 

Which meant that Danny and any copy of that video he had shot would be high on Victor's destruction list. After all, it was a lot harder to convict someone, if they were caught, if there was little evidence.

Steve pulled out his phone and watched the video again, even though he could describe every second from memory by now. For all that it was shaky, it was a decent quality, which meant he could see Victor clearly as he shot at police and bystanders alike. One of those cops could have easily been Steve's father. The bystanders could have been friends he'd known years ago before he moved off island. 

He was not giving Victor the chance to hurt anyone again, not if he could help it. 

The plane's descent grew sharper, and Steve put the file in his bag and pocketed his phone before heading for the cockpit. It had been a while since he'd been home; it would be nice to see the island from a distance, at its best, before he dug into its worst.

***

Danny Williams' house was far from a mansion, but given the location, that size house said that either he made a decent living as an artist, or his wife had been really guilty and Danny had had a good lawyer. 

The lack of a second floor and the proximity of other houses limited the lines of sight and provided more places for Victor to hide than Steve was really comfortable with. However, it also meant that, if the neighbors were nosy, they would likely notice strangers poking around.

After his initial assessment of the perimeter, Steve showed his credentials to the HPD officer standing guard outside, who opened the door to let him in. The main room was empty, but there was music playing in a room just off to the side. 

He went to the doorway of the room to see Danny Williams, his back to Steve, brush hovering over a blank canvas. Steve knocked on the open door to what he could now tell was a studio. "Mr. Williams?" 

Danny turned, and despite the pictures, Steve was wholly unprepared for the effect of Danny Williams in living color. The black and white photos hadn't warned Steve about the blue of those eyes, and he wasn't sure a still photograph could capture the way Danny looked in motion. It should be wrong for anyone to make ratty jeans and a paint-splattered t-shirt look that good. 

"Yes?" Danny said, after a moment. 

"Sorry." Steve took a few steps into the room. "Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. I'm here to talk to you about Victor Hesse."

Steve held out his hand. Danny paused the music before he crossed the rest of the distance to shake Steve's hand. "I don't know what I can tell you that I haven't already told the police," he said, as he let go. "But ask whatever you want."

"It helps to hear it from the source," Steve said. "And I know Hesse better than the police would." He realized he was rubbing his hand where it had touched Danny's and dropped both hands to his side. "Can you just take me through what happened?"

"Yeah," Danny said. "But can we do it in the kitchen? I've been staring at this canvas until I'm cross-eyed, and I could use some caffeine."

Steve nodded. He followed Danny out of the room, across the living room and into a kitchen that was as bright and airy as the studio had been. "You want some?" Danny said, as he nodded at a Keurig.

"Sure. Thank you." Steve stood in the middle of the room at parade rest, looking around as he listened to the sounds of Danny making coffee.

"You know, you're not under inspection or something," Danny said suddenly.

Steve looked back at Danny, who looked like he'd been watching Steve. "Sorry?"

"You don't have to stand. You can sit down." 

Danny nodded at the kitchen table, and Steve took one of the chairs, sitting on the edge, elbows leaning awkwardly on the table. "Thank you."

"Are all soldiers this polite?" 

"We try to be," Steve said. "So, Mr. Williams—"

"Danny."

"Sorry?"

Danny pulled the first mug from the machine and brought it over to Steve. "Call me Danny. You say 'Mr. Williams' and I'm looking around for my dad." He put the mug on the table. "Cream? Sugar?"

Steve shook his head. "Nothing, thanks." 

"Okay. So, Lieutenant Commander, I—" 

"Commander," Steve corrected automatically. 

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "In that case, you can call me Mister," he said, those eyes laced with an amusement that made them sparkle and made Steve wish Victor's witness was an 80-year-old great grandmother. At least that would be less distracting.

"Sorry," Steve said, trying a smile. "Call me Steve."

"Steve it is." Danny put another mug in the machine and pushed the buttons. "So, Steve, I assume you read the report I gave the police."

Steve took a drink of coffee, savoring the strong Kona flavor he'd missed, a small taste of home he'd never quite gotten over. "I did, but I want you to take me through it in your own words."

"Okay." Danny took his coffee out of the machine and poured an almost sickening amount of sugar into it before taking the chair next to Steve. "I'd gone out to Waianae to take some pictures—inspiration for the series of paintings I've been working on. I'd just framed a shot when I heard what sounded like a car backfiring, except cars don't generally backfire multiple times in rapid succession. So I dove behind the nearest car." 

Danny took a drink of his coffee, his hands steady in a way most people wouldn't be when recounting something like this. "As soon as I figured out which direction the shots were coming from I held my camera out with one hand and tried to get some video. Figured it would be good evidence whether I made it, or, well...." 

The mug shook, just a little, and Danny set it down on the table. "Anyway," he said, "sirens started coming from everywhere, and your guy took off with the cops on his tail."

There wasn't much there to help, but the fact still remained that Victor wasn't the type to leave a witness around, especially one with video. Steve took a long drink of his coffee before he asked, "Has anything weird happened since then?"

"You mean other than having a guard on my door 24/7 and every news outlet on this island calling me?"

"Other than that, yeah."

Danny shrugged. "A few hang up calls on my cell, but I figured it was people who saw me on the news. My cell is on my website, so it's not exactly hard to find."

"Maybe." In his head, Steve ran through the list of ways Danny's phone could be used against him through just a phone call. Steve pulled out his phone and held it up, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, then held the phone out at Danny.

Danny frowned for a second before his face cleared, before he said. "I turned the phone off last night," he said. "I got tired of the calls. Anyone who knows me knows my landline number." 

So if someone had been trying to listen in through his phone, they wouldn't have heard any of his conversation with Steve. "Good," Steve said. "Best to leave it off until we know what's going on."

Danny shrugged. "It bothers me when I'm working anyway, so good riddance." 

"You've been here the whole time since the shooting?" 

"Yeah, the police followed me home and took my statement here." Danny shrugged. "It's not like I leave the house a lot when I'm working anyway."

So it wasn't likely Hesse had had a chance to infiltrate Danny's house before that. He'd have needed time to even find out who Danny was. Still, Steve would need to bring a bug detector back, just to be sure, if he was going to follow through on his plan. 

Steve pulled out his notepad and wrote down a note, handing it to Danny before he stood. "Thank you for your time," Steve said, as he headed into the living room to the front door, Danny jumping up to follow after a second. "We'll be in touch." 

He handed Danny the note, along with his card, and shook his hand. "Have a nice day Mr – Danny," Steve said with a smile before he turned around and left. 

***

Steve walked the perimeter for the fourth time, checking the vantage points where his people were installed to keep an eye on Danny's house. He watched the house for several minutes from the back before he checked his watch, then slipped through the darkness into the garage. 

Danny met him at the door from the garage into the kitchen. "So what—"

Steve put two fingers over Danny's mouth, a tactical error, he realized at once, as something like an electrical current went through him at the touch. But he kept them there until Danny nodded that he understood. Steve dropped his hand, fingers still itching with the phantom ridges of Danny's lips as he stepped into the kitchen. 

He dropped his pack to the floor and pulled out a bug detector to do thorough sweep of the house, finally putting it away when he was as sure as he could be that no one had bugs inside. He'd already checked the outside on his first and third perimeter sweeps.

Anyone who was listening in on Danny Williams had to be better than the CIA, FBI and NSA all rolled into one. Victor might be good, but he wasn't that good. 

"Sorry for the secrecy," Steve said, as he pulled his pack off his back and put the detector away. "I needed to be sure that no one was listening in." 

"So I gathered," Danny said. "And now?"

"Now, we wait."

Danny blinked rapidly a few times. "Excuse me?"

"We wait."

When Steve didn't elaborate, Danny said, "For?"

"Victor Hesse doesn't leave loose ends," Steve said. "There's a good chance he's going to try to come for you. And when he does, I'll be here." 

"I'm sorry," Danny said, tilting his head and frowning. "You'll be here?"

Steve nodded. "I hope your couch is comfortable."

"My...oh. You mean _literally_ here," Danny said, pointing at the floor. "Okay. If that's what it takes...okay." Danny scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh, I mean, there are three bedrooms, though, so you can have a bed."

Steve shook his head. "The couch is in the best spot to monitor the house. It covers the most routes to your room at night, short of—well, it's the best spot," he finished, because the even the suggestion of sleeping in Danny's room was something he couldn't think about. They had eyes on all the ways inside his bedroom from the outside; that would have to be enough.

"Okay," Danny said, nodding. "Okay. So...what now? Or would you rather write me another note about what happens next?" he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

His good humor in the face of all this had Steve off balance. Most people would be complaining or scared, or both, but Danny just seemed to be going with it. "Sorry about the note, too."

"I know, I know, secrecy. Though I have to admit," Danny said, lowering his voice a little and leaning in, "a lot of thoughts went through my head as to why you wanted to sneak in through the back of my house after dark."

His tone was suggestive, and Steve had to swallow hard against everything that set off inside him. "Funny," Steve said, stopping to clear the hoarseness out of his throat, and ignoring Danny's raised eyebrows at that. 

Steve cleared his throat again and bent down to pick up his pack. "As for 'what now,' you can go do whatever it is you'd normally do. It's important that, if anyone is watching, it looks like you're just going about your business and there's no sign of me."

"So while I'm going about my business, what are you going to do?" 

"We've put some equipment in your garage. I'm going to get it and set it up." 

Danny seemed to take that in stride. "Need any help?"

Steve shook his head. He did, in fact, need help, but the help he needed was a break from the overwhelming presence Danny seemed to have. "I'm good. Go paint, or whatever you'd be doing about now." 

"Okay, I'll get started on my naked yoga in the living room."

Steve forgot how to breathe for a second. 

"Man," Danny said, bursting into laughter, "your face! I'm kidding, Steven."

 _Steven?_ "You're hilarious," Steve said, not even bothering to clear his throat this time. "I'm gonna go get the rest of my stuff. Feel free to do naked yoga on the rooftop if you want."

He couldn't make out whatever Danny mumbled as Steve headed for the garage, but given the conversation so far, he thought that was maybe a good thing. 

God give him strength to get through this assignment. He was going to need it. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

Steve brought the different boxes in, stacking them in a corner before he started setting up. He looked around the living room, grateful for the opaque windows that let in light without making it easy to be seen from the outside. 

He'd have to be careful, though. He'd changed into all black gear, which had worked well outside, but night time meant anyone watching from outside could see shadows of two people were in the house, no matter what color they wore. And Steve’s height and build would be a dead giveaway to someone like Victor that he wasn’t Danny.

He could move back and forth between the kitchen and living room without much trouble, but his movement around the living room was very restricted. If he wanted to finish, though, he'd have to risk it for the moment. 

Unless he could minimize the risk. 

"Mr – Danny," Steve called in the direction of the studio, "can I borrow you for a minute?" 

Danny walked into the room, his clothes more paint splattered than before. "Sure," he said. "What did you have in mind?" 

Fuck, did everything sound like an innuendo with this guy deliberately, or was Steve's brain just stuck in the gutter when he was around? "Sorry to ask, but do you think you could move the couch over here?"

Danny blinked, but he went to the couch and started shoving it towards Steve. What it displayed of the muscles under that shirt was even better than Steve had been imagining, and he'd been imagining a lot more than he'd realized until that moment.

"Any reason," Danny asked, not even out of breath, "that you're redecorating my living room?"

"Anyone watching from outside would notice two people walking around the house," Steve said. "I need to stick to this corner as long as the lights are on."

Danny stopped moving the couch. "This good?"

Steve checked the angle, then looked at the windows before he nodded.

"You know," Danny said, moving around the couch and stopping a few inches from Steve. "There's a simpler solution."

"Oh?"

Danny nodded. "We could just turn off the lights."

The bastard had to be doing that on purpose—no one suggested that in that tone without meaning only one thing. Steve cleared his throat, his word choice deliberate, "That might arouse suspicion if you turned them off before you were ready for bed."

Danny's eyes lit up, and oh yeah, he definitely wasn't innocent. "I like bed," he said, and Steve could've sworn Danny had gotten closer, even though he hadn't moved. "What are your thoughts on bedtime, Steven?"

"My thoughts don't matter," Steve said, somehow unable to take his eyes off Danny's smile. "It's whatever would make Hesse suspicious that matters." 

Danny licked his lips, and Steve clenched both fists at his sides to keep from doing something he absolutely should not. "Oh, well," Danny said, his eyes dropping to Steve's mouth before meeting Steve's gaze again. "Guess I should get back to painting, then." He took a step back. "Unless you need anything else rearranged?"

Steve looked around. "Maybe the coffee table?" He'd need somewhere to put things other than his gear if he couldn't leave the corner easily. 

Danny walked over to the coffee table and bent over it with his back to Steve, showing off the spectacular ass that the t-shirt had been hiding. He dragged the table over to the couch, walking backwards, his ass swaying the whole way. 

Steve drew in a tight breath through his nose, letting it out carefully when Danny stopped. "Thanks," Steve said.

To his own ears, it sounded strangled, but Danny didn't say anything. When he turned around, though, Steve could tell he hadn't missed it. "Let me know if you need me for anything...else," Danny said, before he turned and went back into his studio.

Steve dropped onto the couch, hands running through his hair as he got a handle on the massive amount of pure want coiling in his gut. He needed to stop reacting like this. Danny was his job. That's it. Clearly he was an artist and free with the flirting, but that was all it was. He probably thought it was funny to rile Steve up, or a great way to pass the time while trapped in his home. 

But that didn't mean Steve had to react. 

***

Steve checked the feeds from the cameras, satisfied that he had all of them running correctly. He had people watching most of the vantage points, but he preferred to be able to see the all the angles himself as well.

If anyone would recognize Victor Hesse disguised as a shadow, Steve would. 

For now, though, the screens showed nothing more than a quiet neighborhood at night. Steve radioed to the team that they could let the HPD officer at the door go now that they had the house covered. When that was done, he tilted his head towards Danny’s studio. The music was quieter than that afternoon, and what Steve could hear was unfamiliar, but he liked the sound of it. 

He moved a little closer, the music more distinct as he neared the door. Something about it reminded him of the ocean—not so much in sound as the feel of it, ebbing and flowing like waves. 

Clearly it was inspiring Danny. The canvas that had been blank a few hours before now held bold strokes of blue, green and brown. It reminded Steve of a forest on the edge of the water, even though the strokes had no actual shape. 

The lack of any discernable shape, at least to Steve's eye, didn't stop Danny from being deliberate in the placement. He paused to look at the canvas before carefully positioning the brush and gliding it across the canvas. The direction was never exactly the same, and Steve wished he could see what Danny saw in his mind as he looked at it, what inspired him, what the strokes formed in his head. 

It was a lot to think about for someone he'd only known for a few hours. 

He'd acknowledged the attraction before he’d even met Danny in person—one of the most crucial parts of being closeted in the Navy was to know yourself and your type so you could lock it down instantly. At this point, attraction was easily deflected after so many years practice. 

But wanting to get someone into bed and wanting to find out what was going on in their head were not the same thing. 

"You know," Danny said, without turning around, hand paused over the canvas, "usually I charge people money to watch me." 

Which gave Steve all kinds of ideas he didn't need. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Danny put the brush down and turned around, smiling. "I was kidding," he said. "I needed to stop anyway. Sometimes I forget to eat when I'm working." 

Steve checked his watch to see it was after eight. "Me, too, apparently." 

"You want some dinner?" Danny asked.

"I have rations." 

Danny rolled his eyes as he moved toward Steve. "That sounds appetizing," he said. "Not." He tugged on Steve's arm, pulling him toward the door. "Come on, eat some real food. Save your rations for if the island gets hit by a hurricane or something."

Steve followed, his arm tingling long after Danny let go. "Meet you in the kitchen in a minute," Danny said, continuing on toward his room. Careful of the sight lines of the front windows, Steve ducked into the kitchen, grateful for the inside shutters Danny had closed at some point before Steve returned. 

He studied the refrigerator door, drawings that suggested Danny's daughter might have inherited his talent, given her age, and few pictures that showed she'd definitely inherited his smile.

Which Steve shouldn't even be noticing.

"That's Grace," Danny said from the door. 

Steve nodded. "I figured," he said, before he turned to look at Danny, who'd put on clothes that weren't covered in paint. The t-shirt definitely showed those muscles Steve had gotten a glimpse of, without being obscene, and the blue color that almost perfect matched Danny's eyes was criminally unfair.

"Right." Danny moved over to the stove. "I forgot you know everything about me."

"Not exactly," Steve said, the degree to which he did want to know everything still unnerving him. He turned to watch as Danny pulled out pots and pans. "There was basic information on her in your file, but that was it." 

Danny smiled over his shoulder. "Well, ask whatever you want about her—that's one subject I never get tired of." 

Not a bad idea—if anything could get Steve's mind off his attraction to Danny, surely it was his daughter.

***

"And then she ducked out from behind the sofa and held up the rock," Danny said, laughing, his fork up in the air in imitation, "and said, 'I found it!'"

Steve laughed, ducking his head to look at his food to avoid looking too long at Danny. "That'll teach you," Steve said, sparing Danny a glance, "to lie to your daughter."

"Hey, I didn't lie." Danny took a bite of his pasta. "I told her that she had to find the rock hidden in the living room before I'd give her any cake." 

"Yeah, but you didn't know there was one there—that doesn't count." 

Danny shrugged. "The dog was always bringing rocks into the house and I could never find them—there was a good chance she'd find one somewhere." He took another bite. "So I killed two birds with one stone—no pun intended."

Steve laughed again, digging into his food just to have another focus. He'd thought getting Danny to talk about his daughter would distract him from wanting Danny, but he hadn't counted on Danny practically glowing the entire time he spoke about Grace.

Steve bit back the urge to ask about Rachel, about what had driven them apart when Danny clearly missed being around his daughter. He looked around the room for another topic, eyes landing on the shutters. 

"So what's with the indoor shutters?" Steve asked, nodding at them.

"Oh, well, after I first moved in, the nosy neighbors started giving me cooking advice. And I like my privacy. Besides," he said, leaning in, his voice dipping lower, "kitchen tables are great flat surfaces."

Steve barely managed to avoid choking on his food. "Do you ever _not_ flirt?" he asked, after a drink. Because he couldn't help himself. He was curious. And the question was long overdue at this point.

Danny shrugged. "I'm definitely a flirt," he said. "Though...I might be a little more...aggressive about it under certain circumstances."

"Like?"

"Like when I have zero control over anything else," Danny said. "Among other things."

Which was more or less the case right now and explained a lot. "And here I thought you were taking all this like it was nothing," Steve said. 

"I mean...there's nothing I can do about it, right? And at least I have protection. Besides, I've learned not to waste all my energy on things I can control," Danny added. "Especially if there are other, more interesting things I can spend that energy on."

The last bit had that teasing tone that Steve had been telling his body to stop listening to since he'd gotten there, all to no avail. "And there's that flirting again," Steve said, ignoring the urge to pry into the implied story in Danny's explanation. He had to get over that interest in knowing every little thing about the man. 

"Well, I did say I like to channel my energy into more interesting things."

Steve cleared his throat. Maybe delving into the story wasn't such a bad direction to go after all. "So how, exactly, did you learn that lesson about not wasting energy on things you can't control?"

"That's a long story," Danny said. He picked up both their empty plates and put them in the dishwasher before returning to the table. "A story I will tell," he said, "but only in the dark and with a drink in my hand."

He picked up the wine he'd been drinking and headed for the living room. Steve grabbed his water, not sure if he was wishing he could drink right now or if that would make it worse. The lights went off in the living room, and Steve braced himself before walking into the room. 

Danny was sprawled on one side of the couch. It was too dark to really see his eyes, but Steve knew they were watching as Steve had to walk past Danny to take the other side of the couch. "So," Steve said, checking the screens quickly before turning his eyes back to Danny, face a little more visible now with the low light from the screens, "that lesson?"

"It's a cliché," Danny said. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"I don't mind clichés." 

Danny looked Steve up and down. "Figures, since you're a walking Captain America cliché yourself," he said, one corner of his mouth twitching up. "Okay." Danny took a long drink of wine. "Let's just say that I spent a lot of time trying to be something I wasn't." 

He took another drink. "By the time I figured out I couldn't change reality, I'd wasted several years of both Rachel's life and my own. Though, if I hadn't," Danny said, a hint of a smile peeking through, "I wouldn't have Grace. Anway, I realized that I couldn't change who I was, and I also couldn't change the past. No point in wasting energy on things I can't control, right?"

"Makes sense," Steve said, even if it was a foreign concept. The whole point of knowing yourself _was_ control. You had to know your motivation, your strength, your weaknesses and all your limitations in order to exert maximum control over yourself and your situations. 

But Danny made it sound like he'd learned all that just to throw control out the window. 

"Let me guess," Danny said, eyeing Steve over the rim of his wine glass. "You get pissed every time the wind blows the wrong way and you can't change it, don't you?"

It was so accurate that Steve had to laugh. "Not always," Steve said, lowering his voice, because two could play at this game, and as long as it was just a game for Danny to distract himself, what did it hurt? "Sometimes I try blowing really hard and see if I can get the wind to change its mind."

Danny's throat working as he swallowed distracted Steve. "And is your blowing good enough to convince it?" Danny asked, after a second.

"I'm told my blowing can be very persuasive," Steve said. 

Even in the very low light, Steve could see that flare in Danny's eyes that went beyond flirting, just as he felt the answering burn in the pit of his own stomach. 

This was such a bad idea. 

"I have no doubt," Danny said. He held Steve's gaze a second before he shook himself, eyes closing as he finished the last of his wine. "I should probably clean up in the kitchen," he said, as he pushed himself off the couch. 

"You want some help?"

"Nah, you'd just complain about how I did the dishes and tell me my cabinets weren't in the right order." The look he threw over his shoulder was almost normal as he left the room.

Such a very, very bad idea. 

***


	3. Chapter 3

Steve watched the screens as he listened to the sounds of Danny cleaning up in the kitchen. There was something intimate about it, like a slice of someone else's life that Steve would probably never have. 

The Navy wasn't really conducive to a normal home life.

Everything was still quiet outside when Danny turned off the kitchen light and came back into the living room. "Do you, uh, need to check my room or anything before I go to bed?" Danny asked. 

For the first time that night, he didn't even sound as if he was flirting, but Steve's body reacted anyway. "No," he said. "If anything had happened, I'd know." He pointed at the screens. "There are cameras outside." 

"So," Danny said, that flirty tone reappearing, "does that mean you can spy in my window?" 

Steve swallowed carefully. "Not with your opaque windows. The cameras are really more meant to let me know if someone's trying to get in that way before the alarm goes off."

"I don't have alarms on the windows." 

"You do as of this evening," Steve said. “So I wouldn’t recommend trying to open any of them.” 

"Wow." Danny scratched his head. "Okay. Um...I'm going to just forget that you did all that and whatever else without me noticing, and just go to bed. There's a spare bathroom off the studio. I left fresh towels on the sink."

"Thanks," Steve said. 

"Sure. Least I could do for the guy out here trying to save my life, right?"

He smiled, and Steve returned the gesture. "The least," he agreed.

"Goodnight, Steven," Danny said, giving him a half-assed mock salute.

"Goodnight, Daniel."

Danny stared at him for a moment before he turned and went into his room. Steve listened to the sounds of Danny getting ready for bed, then Danny's light went out, and everything was quiet. 

Steve stared at the screens. He would focus on the mission and ignore whatever this thing was between him and Danny. Maybe if he ignored it hard enough, it would go away. 

***

Steve had long ago learned the art of dozing while still being aware of your surroundings. It was no substitute for real sleep, but it was definitely helpful with energy and alertness when you couldn't sleep.

Of course, he could sleep if he wanted to, technically speaking. There were people watching the house from every angle, but Danny was still Steve’s responsibility, and if he couldn’t see Danny, then he wanted to be able to see the cameras on the house. 

He was dozing when he heard a faint noise from Danny's room. Steve's hand went to his gun, but a moment later, Danny appeared. He didn't sleep in the nude—or at least he wasn't while Steve was around—thank God. However, he apparently did not sleep with a shirt on, and if he'd been tempting in that somewhat revealing shirt earlier, without a shirt at all he was almost irresistible, even in nothing more than the low light from the street. 

But Steve had to resist. 

"Don't shoot," Danny said. His middle of the night voice sounded like the very best sex Steve could imagine, and he was imagining a lot, despite all attempts to do otherwise. "I'm just going to get water. You want some?"

"No, thanks." Steve watched as Danny walked through to the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open and close, and a moment later Danny was back in the living room, a bottle of water in his hand. He stopped, eyeing Steve where he lay sideways on the couch, still mostly in his uniform. "You sleep in camo?"

"I don't sleep," Steve said. 

"Oh." The light in Danny's eyes didn't bode well for his next words. "So you really are the Terminator, then?" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Go get some sleep, John Conner," Steve said.

Danny shrugged. "At least you didn't call me Sarah," he said. "Good night, Terminator."

Steve didn't bother not to stare at Danny's retreating backside. It wasn't like anyone else would see. And it wasn't like ignoring his body’s reaction to Danny was doing him any good anyway. 

***

Steve listened as Danny finished up in the bathroom off his room, absolutely not imagining what Danny looked like naked and wet. Or at least he tried, which at this point was all he could manage. The radio activity as shift changes started was a welcome distraction, one that thankfully had Steve occupied when Danny came out of his room, damp hair curling on the ends. 

Danny waved. Steve waved back as he continued his radio conversation. "I'm going to get a little shut eye this morning," Steve said into the mouthpiece. "Alert me if you see anything." 

"Yes, sir." 

Steve pushed off the couch and headed into the kitchen. He watched Danny filling his coffee with a sickening amount of sugar for a moment before finally saying, "Morning." 

Danny glanced over his shoulder. "Morning," he said. "Want some?" 

Steve shook his head. "I had some a little while ago. I'm gonna take a shower—there are eyes on all sides of the house, but if you hear anything or see anything, let me know immediately." 

Danny turned around to lean back against the counter, eyeing Steve over the rim of his coffee mug. "So should I knock, or just open the door and pull back the curtain?"

Heat rose up Steve's neck, and he gave up any hope that his face wasn't flushed as he took a long breath. "Maybe try knocking first," Steve said, pleased that he'd managed to keep his voice steady, at least. "Though if Hesse breaks down the door, feel free to join me in the shower." 

"That might be worth Hesse breaking down the door." Danny took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Steve's. 

"Funny." Steve paused to clear his throat. "Your file didn't say anything about a death wish."

"Yeah, okay, so Hesse breaking down the door isn't really something I want to see." Danny took another sip. "You in the shower, on the other hand...." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, turning on his heel. "With the door locked," he added as he walked out.

"It's my house," Danny called after him. "You think I don't have a key?"

***

Despite Danny's teasing, the door stayed closed while Steve took a longer shower than strictly necessary. He emerged finally, in utility pants and a tank top, to find Danny in the studio, standing in front of the canvas he'd been working on the night before. 

He turned as the door opened, eyes widening as he looked Steve up and down thoroughly, pausing on Steve's arms. "Nice work," Danny said finally, his voice hoarse as he nodded at Steve's tattoos. 

"Thanks." Steve really needed to figure out how to control the flush that never seemed to be far behind those looks from Danny, and what those looks did to his dick. "I'm gonna take a quick nap," Steve said, starting toward the living room.

"I thought you didn't sleep." 

Steve turned at the door. "Hate to break it to you, but I really am only human." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." 

Sometimes it felt like it was. Like on this assignment, which he was seeing through regardless. He was determined to get justice for Freddie. 

And he was determined to make sure nothing happened to Danny. 

"Being a soldier would be easier sometimes if I wasn't." 

Danny shook his head. "A good soldier should always be human first."

Steve wasn't sure the military would agree, but there were a lot of things that he and the military didn't see eye to eye on right now. "I'll be up in a few hours," he said, turning around and walking out.

***

Steve woke to the faint sounds of cooking. He shifted around on the couch into a slightly less comfortable position to help him clear the cobwebs from his head. The smell of bacon helped more, and he pushed up off the couch, running a hand over his hair as he wandered into the kitchen. 

Danny was at the stove, poking at bacon in a frying pan. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said, giving Steve a smile. "Or, technically, afternoon, since it's almost one."

Steve grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Afternoon," he said, before downing half the bottle.

"There's an ocean a few blocks away," Danny said mildly. "Sure you don't want to just go drink that?"

Steve raised an eyebrow as he drank the rest of the bottle. "Too salty," he said, as he tossed the bottle into Danny's recycling bin. 

"Oh, well, in that case, you probably don't want any of my bacon, huh?"

"I could eat," Steve said, trying to sound as if the smell of the bacon wasn't making his mouth water. Or at least it was one of the things making his mouth water, the other being Danny, who'd taken off his painting t-shirt to show a tank top underneath. 

"A couple of BLTs coming right up then," Danny said. "Have a seat." 

Steve sat down at the table, watching Danny work. "Do you have a gym hiding here somewhere?" Steve asked, after a minute.

"I thought you knew every inch of my house." 

"I do. But clearly you work out." 

Danny raised his eyebrows, but he didn't call Steve on the comment. "I belong to a gym down the street," Danny said finally. "One of the perils of working from home—if you don't make outside commitments, it's easy to become cut off." 

"I would think Grace would help with that." 

He absolutely did not mention Grace just to get that smile from Danny. "It does," Danny said. "But I only have her half the time. The other half...it can get lonely around the house." 

"Try spending six months at sea with people everywhere you turn," Steve said. "You'll start to crave loneliness." 

"Yeah, there are a lot of reasons I never signed up for the military," Danny said. "That's about six of them." 

"Six?" 

"At least." Danny turned off the stove. There was a grace to his movements as he made the sandwiches that reminded Steve of how he moved as he painted. It carried through his whole body as he walked over to the table and sat the plates down. He brought over a couple of bottles of water before finally sitting down across from Steve. 

Steve held up the sandwich. "Thanks," he said, before taking a bite. "Much better than rations."

"Cardboard would be better than rations," Danny said. "Yet another reason I never joined the military."

"It's not all that bad." 

"Yeah, it was still pretty low on my list of careers." Danny took a bite of his sandwich. "Nothing against it—I admire what you do. It's just not for me."

Steve studied him for a moment. "So what was at the top of your list?" 

"Believe it or not," Danny said, between bites, "I thought about being a cop."

"Really?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, but then Rachel found out she was pregnant, and...I just couldn't put my kid through that, you know?"

"My dad was a cop," Steve said. "I always admired him for that." 

"Was?"

Steve nodded. "He retired a couple years ago. He actually lives about ten miles from here."

"Seriously?" Danny put his sandwich down. "Did you get to see him before this?"

"No." At Danny's look of concern, Steve shook his head. "We're not...well, I was going to say we're not close, but that's not quite the right word. We just don't talk a lot."

"Why?"

The million-dollar question that Steve had never thought to ask until now. "I don't know. Maybe because he sent me and my sister to the mainland as teens and we've only seen him a few times a year since. I mean, we talk on the phone, but it's hard to establish a relationship with a phone."

It had never occurred to him to question any of it until now, which made the ready answer so much more surprising. "Anyway, it's still a little weird, being back and not seeing him."

"Well, maybe when this is over you can at least stop by and see him before you move on to the next job."

"Yeah, maybe." He was more interested in the idea than he had been in a while. 

"I can't imagine sending my kid away," Danny said. "I mean, I moved all this way just to be where she was."

Which was one of the things that Steve admired about the man—one of a growing list that was far too long for someone he'd known such a short time. "You're a good father," Steve said. 

"Yeah, maybe...I don't know."

"What's not to know?"

"There were a couple of years there where her home life wasn't the best. Me and Rachel...it didn't end painlessly." 

He stared at his sandwich for a moment, until Steve prompted, "Oh?"

"Yeah." Danny took a long drink of water. "My family, my community back home...they have very narrow ideas of what you should be. Who you should be," Danny said slowly. "It took me a long time to realize I didn't fit them." 

His soft huff of laughter held little humor. "Or it took me a long time to admit it to myself anyway. And by the time I'd stopped running from the fact that my wife was less my type than, say, the hot, male trainer at the gym, Gracie was old enough to remember the way I broke her mom's heart."

The words were so raw Steve wanted to pull Danny close and examine him for visible injury. "Somehow I doubt she sees it that way."

Danny shrugged, a little of the tension loosening around his mouth. "Maybe. We'll see." 

"You moved all this way for her," Steve said.

"It's the very least I'd do for her," Danny said, meeting Steve's gaze. "That little girl is my life."

It was so opposite everything Steve had experienced growing up that he wanted to tell Danny that any kid would cherish a father like that. "Then you're a good father," was all he could manage. 

"I hope so." Danny let out a long breath before he ate the last of his sandwich. "I'm gonna go paint," he said, dropping his plate in the sink and heading out of the kitchen.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Steve checked in with the team watching the house, then with his commander. Hesse had apparently dropped off the face of the earth, which meant he was likely holed up somewhere on the island waiting for his chance. 

Either that, or he’d left the island entirely, but Steve didn’t like to think about that option. As much as he wanted to make sure Danny was safe, he also needed to get Hesse. And Danny was the best chance Steve had at that, but only if Hesse was interested in going after him. 

After prowling around the house to check all the corners, even though they were unlikely to contain any hidden threats, Steve found himself heading to the studio again. That same music was playing, still as soothing as it had been the night before. 

The painting seemed to match the music somehow. Smooth, calm strokes of blue and green on the edges, but the middle was chaotic. A choppy swirl of blue, green, brown and light that didn’t really look like anything, and yet it somehow made sense. 

“You always work this fast?” Steve asked. 

“I can work very slow when I’m properly motivated,” Danny said, throwing a look over his shoulder. 

Steve rolled his eyes and told his dick to stand down. “That canvas was blank yesterday. You seem pretty fast.” 

Danny shrugged in between strokes. “It’s hit or miss. When I’m inspired, yeah, it usually goes quick. Funny,” he added, glancing over his shoulder again. “I really hadn’t been able to paint since the shooting.” 

“Something must’ve inspired you,” Steve said. 

Danny’s look was longer this time, giving Steve an up and down stare. “Something. Yeah.” 

Steve cleared his throat, but he was still a little hoarse as he said, “Shift change is in a couple hours, so I’m going to catch a quick nap before they check in.” 

“Sweet dreams,” Danny said with a smile, before he went back to painting.

Yeah, Steve would be having dreams all right. He just wasn’t sure sweet was quite the right word. 

***

Normally a short nap would be enough to keep him refreshed on a mission, but vague dreams that Steve suspected he was better off not remembering left him feeling a little sluggish when he woke. He got up and stretched a little before wandering into the studio. 

The music was the same as before, or at least very similar. Danny glanced over his shoulder with a welcoming smile. “All ready to spend another night keeping me safe?” 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded at the painting, unable to tell exactly how it had changed, but drawn to it even more now. “Is that done?” 

Danny glanced at it, then back at Steve, frowning now. “Almost. It’s missing something.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “It hasn’t told me yet.” 

Steve watched as Danny studied the painting from different angles before picking up a thin brush. The soft, delicate strokes he used were different from earlier, and Steve couldn’t help thinking what it would be like, being on the end of all that focus from Danny, delicate touches creating a whirlwind of emotion and color. 

He shivered as Danny drew the brush across the canvas once more, gold strands among the blues and greens, a subtle hint that might not even be obvious to anyone who hadn’t seen it in the making. Danny’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the painting again before he put the brush down.

“It’s done?” 

“Maybe,” Danny said. “I need to leave it for a while and come back to it.” Danny pulled his t-shirt over his head as he went to the sink in the corner. 

Steve watched the muscles not hidden behind Danny’s tank top work as Danny washed his hands. The need to touch those muscles, to see how they felt as they moved, overwhelmed him for a second. He tamped down on the desire and hoped that Danny didn’t look below Steve’s waist as he turned around.

His eyes stayed on Steve’s face, thankfully, as he said, “Hungry?”

 _You have no idea._ “I could eat,” Steve said. 

“Come on, then,” Danny said, brushing past Steve a lot closer than necessary. Steve turned like he was tethered to Danny’s shoulder as he went by, following him into the kitchen.

That urge to touch didn’t go away as Danny cooked, his movements every bit as graceful as when he was painting. Chopping up vegetables shouldn’t be such a turn on, but apparently anything Danny did was suddenly a turn on for Steve.

It was no longer clear whether Hesse turning up would be a blessing or a curse.

But no. There was Freddie’s death to avenge. Hesse needed to show himself so Steve could move on. 

In more ways than one, he realized as Danny sauntered—because walked wasn’t nearly a descriptive enough word for the way Danny moved—over to the table with two salads. He placed them on the table, leaving Steve to stare at Danny’s ass as he went to the fridge to get water. 

When Danny turned to come back to the table, Steve looked down at his salad, praying his dick would be under control again by the time he had to stand up. 

“Earth to Steven,” Danny said.

Steve looked up, startled. “Hm?”

“I asked if there was something wrong with your salad.”

“Sorry.” Steve shook his head. “No, nothing wrong. I was just thinking.” 

Danny’s eyebrows shot up as he pulled his fork out of his mouth so slowly that Steve had to fight not to squirm. “About?” 

“Your work,” Steve said, because it was the first thing that he could come up with that wasn’t sex. “What do you see when you’re painting?” 

Danny shrugged as he finished chewing. “It depends. Inspiration comes from all over the place. I once did a painting inspired by a dead tree.” 

“You painted a dead tree?”

“No, it was inspired by one. Most people never know what inspired me by just looking at the painting.” 

Steve very much wanted to know what inspired all of them. Which was part of the problem. “There was one,” Steve said slowly. “In your file, there was a picture of an art show, and you were standing next to this painting that looked like the tallest wave I ever saw at the Pipe. ‘The Water’s Teeth’ I think?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “You thought that looked like a wave?” 

“What was it supposed to be?” 

“A wave, more or less,” Danny said. “But nobody ever described it as one before.”

It had seemed pretty obvious to Steve, but he wasn’t going to say that, not with whatever that was look on Danny’s face. “So where is that one now?” 

“Sold to some tech billionaire in San Francisco.” Danny took a drink. “For thirty grand.” 

Steve blinked. “Seriously?” At Danny’s nod, Steve said, “Wow.” 

“Yeah, I make a decent living from painting,” Danny said, almost like it was some kind of joke. “Ironic, huh? I make a lot of money putting pigment on fabric, and you run around saving the world for next to nothing.” 

“We don’t do it for the money.”

“Obviously.” 

From someone else that reaction might have been offensive, but not the way Danny said it. “It’s a calling,” Steve said slowly. “Sounds hokey, I know, but it’s true. My best friend, Freddie, pretty much started every one of our missions with, ‘Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.’”

“Sounds like he’s a lot wiser than you,” Danny teased. “Maybe they should’ve sent him to protect me.”

The wound was still fresh enough that it took Steve a second to say, “He, uh…he died. I got out, but he…didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.” 

The words were quiet. Soothing, even, and something in Steve settled a little at them. “Victor Hesse is the one loose end from that. He’s responsible for Freddie’s death.”

Danny studied him for a moment. “How long you been carrying that around?”

“Five days.” 

For the first time since Steve had moved into the house, Danny seemed at a loss for words for a moment. “I get it,” he said at last. “When I was a kid, my friend, Billy, and I would go swimming all summer.” Danny traced the ridges on his water bottle as if they held the secret to the universe. “And then one day there was a riptide. I got caught up, and Billy came and pulled me out of it. But then it caught him, and….” 

Danny looked up through his lashes. “So…yeah,” he said after a moment. “I get it.” 

“The Water’s Teeth?”

Danny looked startled. “Huh?”

“The painting. That’s what it’s about?” 

After a moment, Danny nodded. “Yeah, I wanted…I mean, I figured there should be some kind of memorial. Or something. If Grace had been a boy then we would’ve named—shit. Grace.” 

“What?” 

“Rachel has this meeting tomorrow, and Grace is supposed to come over for the day.” Danny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can cancel. I’m sure Rachel can find a sitter.”

“No, don’t,” Steve said. “Everything has to seem normal.” If Hesse really was watching, he would know everything there was to know about Danny’s schedule, and there was no way to tell what he might’ve found out from anyone near Rachel. Or how he might use Grace to get to Danny if he figured out why Danny canceled. 

Plus, the look on Danny’s face at having to cancel was heartbreaking. 

“We can protect her,” Steve said. 

Danny gave him a long look. “Are you sure about that?”

“I would never put your daughter in danger,” Steve said. “We have people on Rachel’s house anyway, just as a precaution, and we have reinforcements watching here. If Hesse comes near here in the daylight, he’ll never even make it inside.” Not to mention that he would be less likely to come after Danny while Grace was here anyway—he had nothing personal against Danny. Killing a kid unnecessarily wasn’t Hesse’s style. 

Not that Steve was going into that much detail with Danny. 

“Okay,” Danny said. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

***

After dinner, Danny went back to work, though every time Steve checked in Danny seemed to only be staring at the painting, and it didn’t look any different. Steve spent a lot of time watching the monitors, as much to keep himself from watching Danny as anything. 

The team outside went through another staggered change, each person checking in, leaving Steve assured that they were as covered as they could be from different angles for the night. 

When the last of the team had checked in, Steve went into the studio. Danny was sitting on the floor looking at the painting. 

“You know,” Steve said. “I heard that if you stare at it long enough it paints itself.”

“Funny,” Danny said, eyes still on the painting. 

Steve crossed the room, stopping beside Danny. “Everyone’s in place outside,” Steve said. “We’re secure for the night.” 

Danny nodded. “Thanks.” 

Steve studied him for a moment. “What’s wrong with the painting?” 

“Nothing.” 

“So why are you staring at it like it won’t tell you where it hid your pot of gold?” 

Danny looked at him at last, eyebrow raised. “Is that a joke about my height?” 

“Nope,” Steve said quickly, though his smile might’ve suggested otherwise. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. Because I will have you know that good things come in small packages. Also,” Danny added, lowering his voice. “Height doesn’t _dic_ tate size everywhere.”

Steve swallowed carefully, then cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the overt innuendo. He nodded at the painting. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. What’s wrong with the painting?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Danny said. 

“Okay.” Steve nodded towards the bathroom. “I’m going to clean up a little. Helps me stay awake.”

Danny nodded before turning his attention back to the painting again. After a few seconds, Steve turned and went into the bathroom.

***

Danny was still staring at the painting when Steve left the bathroom. He left Danny to his contemplation and went back into the living room to do his own staring at the quiet streets of Danny’s neighborhood.

It was a long time before the light went out in the studio and Danny emerged. “I’m going to go pass out,” Danny said. “Need anything first?” 

Steve shook his head. “Thanks, though. Good night.” 

“Night.” 

Steve watched Danny go, not thinking about how much he wanted to follow. Danny’s daughter would be there tomorrow; at the very least it would be a good distraction from the X-rated thoughts about Danny that were threatening to drive Steve crazy. 

***

“You look nervous.” 

Steve jerked his eyes away from the screens and looked up at Danny with the most confident face he could manage. “I’m not nervous.”

“You better not be,” Danny said, leaning on the side of the couch, far too close for Steve’s comfort. “My little girl will be here any minute, and I’m counting on you to make sure she’s safe.”

“I have no reservations whatsoever about her safety, Danny, or I would have told you to keep her away.”

That intense scrutiny shouldn’t be that hot. “Okay,” Danny said at last. “I believe you. But you still look nervous.”

Seriously, not even his own family could read him this well. “I just….” Steve sighed. “I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids.” Brief exposure, sure, all over the world, but he hadn’t to spend the day entertaining one since he was one himself. 

Danny’s mouth evened out into a smile, and really, Steve probably shouldn’t spend so much time staring at that mouth. “You’re nervous because she’s not an adult? Seriously?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Danny moved around the table to sit beside Steve, close enough that Steve could still feel his heat without actually touching. “Don’t talk about wars or about how there’s some international terrorist after me,” Danny said. “Just…turn everything into a fairytale. She’s eight. She’ll love it.”

“So, what, I’m not a SEAL here to protect you, I’m your knight in shining white armor?” Steve teased.

That flush on Danny’s face was also hotter than it should be. “More like camouflage armor,” Danny said. 

Steve glanced down at his BDUs. He would prefer to change into something a little less military to avoid freaking Grace out, but he hadn’t really packed for civilian life. He’d packed for a mission. And he couldn’t exactly run out and buy some clothes. “So we tell her that I’m, what, your bodyguard?” 

“A freaky, military-type bodyguard.” Danny nodded at the screens. “One who goes way overboard on the protective duty.”

“You think she’ll buy that?”

“She buys that unicorns are real and Santa slips down a non-existent chimney to bring her more gifts than could even get in the front door at once,” Danny said. “She won’t question it once she’s sure everything’s okay.”

Before Steve could answer, the front door flew open. By the time Grace reached the middle of the room, Danny was there to catch her, holding her like she was the most precious thing on the planet. Steve let out a slow breath as Danny put Grace down carefully and took her hand to lead her over to the couch.

“Gracie, this is Steve. He’s going to hang out with us today, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed, enough like Danny’s skeptical stare to leave no doubt who her father was. “Hi, Steve,” she said after a moment, then looked up at Danny. “Danno, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Danny said instantly, “Steve’s just sticking around for a few days to make sure this guy who hates art doesn’t try to spray paint my house in protest.” 

Which wasn’t entirely a lie—Hesse probably didn’t care about art, and he would definitely spray paint the house. Danny had just left out the part about it being with blood. 

Grace seemed to take it at face value, though. “Why do you watch so much TV?” she asked Steve.

Steve stifled a laugh. “It’s cameras on the house,” he said. “To make sure if this guy comes anywhere near the house with a can of paint we have proof.”

“Oh.” She turned to Danny. “So do we have to watch the cameras all day?”

“Nope. But we kind of have to stay in the house in case he shows up. He might spray paint us, and you’d look kind of silly with purple paint all over you.”

“I want purple hair, though, so maybe I’d get lucky?”

Danny pulled her in close to his side, her head barely reaching his waist. “Maybe we shouldn’t risk that, okay?”

“Okay. So can we play a game then?”

“Sure, come on, we’ll pick one out.”

Danny took Grace by the hand and led her over to a cupboard in the other corner, the whole scene making Steve want to take out his phone just to capture the moment. He watched, mesmerized, as they debated games before settling on Monopoly. The way they worked together setting the game up suggested this was far from the first time they’d played it. 

“Hey, Steven,” Danny said, when the board was ready. “You wanna come be a race car?”

Steve cleared his throat, but his voice was still a little hoarse when he said, “Sure.”

*** 

If listening to Danny talk about his daughter had been endearing, watching Danny with his daughter was dangerous. Watching them made Steve a little nostalgic for a childhood he barely remembered, and sad for all that hadn’t come later for him. 

The way Danny’s face lit up around Grace was mesmerizing. Steve couldn’t stop staring, even when Danny caught him. Of course, Danny’s smile suggested that maybe he didn’t mind so much, but still. Steve was supposed to be working. He did work, a little—he checked the monitors routinely, and kept his ear piece in, but the afternoon rolled on with nothing more than the occasional chatter about shift changes.

“Mr. Steve?” 

Steve tore his glance away from Danny to look down at Grace, the way she said the name Danny had insisted on making him smile. “Yeah?” 

“Do you live in Honolulu?”

Steve shook his head. “Not anymore. I just visit.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d come back to play Monopoly again.”

His stomach did a little flip. “I’d like that,” Steve said, glancing at Danny before looking back at Grace. “I have family here, so maybe I can.” Steve glanced at Danny again to find an unreadable look on his face. 

“Good. Danno doesn’t complain as much when I beat him when you’re around.”

Steve laughed. “Glad to hear it.” 

Danny’s tone was barely even a mocking form of stern. “Enough of that, young lady,” he said. “Isn’t it your turn to roll?”

As Grace picked up the dice, Steve shot another glance at Danny to find that same look. But the warmth in his eyes said maybe it wasn’t a bad one. 

***


	5. Chapter 5

Steve was almost as sorry as Danny to see Grace go. He had too few days like this, where work could take a back seat and he could just play. Before today, he wouldn’t have said it was something he needed anymore, but now…maybe he was wrong.

Grace threw her arms around Steve’s legs and he froze, uncertain how to handle it as she grinned up at him. “I’m glad you were here.”

“Me, too, kiddo.”

“See you soon?” she asked.

“I hope so.” 

He gave her a little squeeze, then headed for the studio so she could say her goodbyes to Danny, but Steve could watch the front of the house. A minute later, he heard the door close and saw Danny walk Grace out to her mom’s car.

A quick conversation later, Danny was back in the house, and Steve breathed a little easier. He didn’t think that Hesse would’ve been able to do anything, but it had taken everything in him not to be the one to walk them both out, to make sure that they were both was protected.

But everything had to seem normal. And no one was supposed to know Steve was here. 

Danny walked into the studio, not bothering to hide his disappointment now that Grace was gone.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. It just…it never gets easier, letting her go.”

He wondered if his dad had felt that way when he’d sent Steve and Mary away, if he’d had that same slightly heartbroken look on his face as he’d watched them go. Maybe he had. Or maybe he’d given it the same McGarrett stoic upper lip and soldiered on.

Maybe he should ask. 

Danny’s sniff hinted of tears that he wasn’t going to actually shed. “You want some dinner?” he asked. 

“Yeah, food would be good.”

Danny nodded as he turned and walked out. Steve stopped to look at the painting at the other end of the room, the last of the sunlight making it seem to almost glow. It looked almost fragile in the golden light, as if a strong wind would blow the paint off and leave nothing behind. 

But he’d watched Danny paint enough of it to know that it was a lot sturdier than it looked.

“Steven,” Danny called out from the kitchen, “if you want to eat, maybe you could come help?”

With one last look at the painting, Steve headed for the kitchen.

***

“No, really,” Danny said, as he laid his fork on his empty plate, “how did you not get kicked out of SEAL school?” 

“BUD/s,” Steve corrected, even though it was clear from Danny’s look the ‘mistake’ was intentional. A lot of things were clear from Danny’s looks, and Steve was doing his best to ignore all of them. 

It wasn’t working, but he was trying.

“Okay, BUD/s then,” Danny said. “How did you not get kicked out?” 

“Would you believe a freak storm blew through that night and they thought the damage was from that?” 

Danny laughing was a thing of beauty, especially that full-on laugh where he threw his head back, giving Steve so many thoughts about licking those muscles down Danny’s neck. “Yes,” Danny said at last. “I would absolutely believe the universe brewed up that storm just to save you from your own stupidity.” 

Steve finished off his glass of wine. “Well, I think our CO might’ve suspected, but since he couldn’t prove anything, he let it go.” 

“Of course he did.” Danny’s look made Steve shift in his seat and start worrying about what might be obvious if he got up from the table. “So why did you go into the Navy?” Danny asked. “And choose the most difficult route possible?” 

Steve shrugged. “Family tradition?” he said lightly. “My dad and my grandfather were both in the Navy.” 

“No,” Danny said instantly. “That wasn’t it.” He tilted his head, studying Steve. “Or at least not all of it.” 

Steve had been very good at avoiding that question over the years, even to himself. “When I was a kid,” Steve said slowly, “Dad took me out to the Arizona and said my grandfather was down there, somewhere. That he’d fought to save the island and was brave and strong. And they gave me his name.” Steve studied the drops left in his wine glass, tilting the glass different directions to see how they moved. “I guess I felt I had a lot to live up to.” 

After a moment, he looked up to find Danny’s eyes narrowed, like he could see through Steve if he squinted hard enough. “That’s part of it,” Danny said finally. “What’s the rest?”

Maybe he could see through Steve, because the few people who hadn’t bought the first answer always bought the second. Steve gave him another shrug. “I don’t know.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed further, nothing more than slits now. “I think—”

Steve’s ringtone was loud and welcome, letting him off the hook, at least for the moment. “McGarrett,” Steve answered, eyes still on Danny.

“McGarrett.” Captain Sharp was as matter of fact as always. “Hesse has left the island.”

Steve blinked. “He did what?”

“HPD got a tip from a CI that lead them to a human trafficker named Sang Min. Said he set Hesse up with some contacts who were moving him to Colombia. He’s due to meet up there for new papers in four days. I want you there by then.” 

None of this made sense. “HPD is sure about this?”

“Sergeant Kelly seems sure. Said the guy was pretty motivated to tell the truth.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t ask and he didn’t say,” Sharp said. “I got the feeling I was better off not knowing what tactics they used. Anyway, the team is packing up now and should be out within an hour. I want you with them in Colombia before Hesse gets there.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, because he couldn’t say anything else. Except…. “Sir, since I have a couple days, could I take one to visit my father as long as I’m here?” 

“Be in Colombia in three days,” Sharp said. “We’ll send you the details.” 

“Thank you.”

Sharp hung up. Steve put his phone in his pocket before he looked at Danny. “Apparently Hesse has left the island.”

“Just like that?” Danny asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like him, unless he scoped this place out and knew he couldn’t get to you and decided to save himself.” 

“Which you’re not buying,” Danny said. 

“Maybe,” Steve said. “I don’t know.” 

Danny got up, taking his plate with him. “So that’s it, then?” Danny asked, as he put his plate in the sink a little too carefully. “You’re out of here?”

“I can’t exactly obey a direct order.” 

“No, I guess not.” Danny turned on the water. 

Steve picked up his plate and glass and took them over to the sink, setting them down beside Danny’s. “It looks like you’re safe, at least.”

Danny glanced up to the side, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Steve got it. The whole thing seemed a little off to him, too. It felt wrong to leave right now, and not because of Danny—though in his whole attempt to be honest with himself, Danny was a big part of why he wanted to stay.

He didn’t have to admit it to anyone else, but he couldn’t ignore it. 

“Your—what’d you call him, your CO?” At Steve’s nod, Danny said, “Your CO gave you a day?” 

“A couple, actually. I have to meet up with the team in a few days. With travel time, that means I can manage a couple nights here,” Steve said. “I’m sure Dad will put me up.”

Danny met his eyes at last. “Or,” he said slowly, something in that look making Steve’s chest a little tight, “you could spend the night here first.” 

The invitation was clear. The desire to say yes was like a shard of glass in the middle of Steve’s chest, one that twisted when he thought of all the ways it could blow up in his face. The thought of saying no, though…that was worse. 

“Okay,” Steve said, his pulse rushing through his veins so strong it seemed to dull his hearing. “Okay.” 

Danny’s smile was worth the panic at the thought of anyone figuring out just why Steve stayed. He could chalk it up to the fact that it didn’t sit right that Hesse would just leave. It wasn’t a lie; he still thought it seemed odd. And he wasn’t sure Danny was out of danger. 

That should be enough to ward off any questions if anyone found out he’d stayed at Danny’s for the night. 

The personal fallout of doing this might be harder to avoid, but Steve had already jumped into this mess, and when he jumped, he went all in. 

“I should uh…I should pack up my gear,” Steve said after a moment. “Someone will collect it from your garage in the next few days.” 

“You want some help?” 

“Sure.”

***

Steve came back from the last trip to the garage to find Danny in the kitchen, holding out a glass of wine. “Everything all packed away?” Danny asked.

“Yeah.” Steve took the glass, pausing for a long drink. “I just got word that the team finished pulling out.” 

“So no one’s watching the house now?” Danny asked.

Steve shook his head. Danny took the glass out of Steve’s hand, placing it carefully on the table before pulling Steve down until their lips were almost touching. “If you only stayed to make sure Hesse wasn’t going to try anything,” Danny said, his breath warm on Steve’s lips, “now’s your last chance to say so.”

“No,” Steve said quickly, “I mean, that worries me, but no, it’s not the only, I mean, I stayed because I—”

Danny cut him off, pressing their lips together in a tentative kiss that quickly turned into anything but. Danny’s hands were as sure as his lips, working on Steve’s clothes as Danny backed his way through the house, taking Steve with him. 

Things suddenly seemed darker, and Steve opened his eyes, pulling out of the kiss long enough to realize they’d made it into Danny’s room. The shades were mostly drawn, leaving just enough light to make out Danny’s face, the look there enough to draw Steve back in, even without Danny’s hands pulling on him. 

Steve’s shirt disappeared without him really noticing, he was so intent on getting Danny’s off. That body was everything he’d been imagining—not that Danny had really left all that much to the imagination with those skin-tight tank tops, and sleeping without a shirt.

Danny’s hands were on Steve’s fly, making quick work of his button and zipper and pulling his pants down to his knees before shoving him back onto the bed. Steve went with it, letting Danny deal with Steve’s boots and pants until he had Steve laid out on the bed, completely naked. 

“Jesus,” Danny breathed. “Not even Rodin could’ve imagined anything like you.”

Steve moved, knowing just how it would make his muscles stand out, loving the way it stopped Danny and made him just stare. “Hey,” Steve said, and Danny’s eyes snapped to Steve’s face. “Your turn.”

That slow smile Danny gave might actually stop Steve’s heart if he saw it too many times. Not that he’d get the chance, but he put that thought aside in favor of watching as Danny stripped—because to call it simply disrobing would understate the showmanship involved. 

When Danny pulled off his underwear and stood up again, Steve stared, searching for words before one single one came out. “Fuck.” 

“That an invitation?” Danny said, the raspy quality to his voice making the words far less breezy than he’d probably intended. 

Steve hadn’t meant it that way but…. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean…yeah.” 

For the first time, Danny looked slightly uncertain, but by the time he’d pulled the necessary supplies out of the nightstand, that look was gone. He kneeled on the bed in between Steve’s legs, forcing Steve to move them a little further apart to make room. 

“You’ve, uh…you’ve done this before?” Danny asked.

Steve nodded. Only a few times, and years ago, but it wasn’t like it was something you forgot how to do. 

“Good. That’s good.” Danny shifted, and Steve moved his legs apart a little further. “Like this is good?” Danny asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” Danny’s smile seemed a little nervous, but it was real, and that settled some of the butterflies in Steve’s stomach, only for them to instantly start up again as Danny slicked up his fingers and reached down between Steve’s legs. 

The first slide of Danny’s fingers between Steve’s cheeks made Steve lift his hips up, instantly looking for more. Danny obliged, fingers delving deeper until they found their target. That first intrusion inside by one of Danny’s fingers made Steve push forward, looking for more. 

“Have a little patience,” Danny said, the words breathless and not at all demanding. “I want this to be good.”

It _was_ going to be good; there was no doubt about that, which was why Steve wanted it all right this second. He pushed up again, which led to Danny removing his fingers, the exact opposite of what Steve was aiming for. “Hey!”

“Sheesh, I would’ve thought the military taught you some kind of patience,” Danny said, holding up the bottle of lube. “Trust me, this’ll be a lot better if you give me a second to actually use this.”

Steve shifted restlessly until Danny’s fingers were back, two this time, the odd stretch quickly giving way to a much better feeling as Danny pushed in deeper. Three fingers was torture, though, only because Steve was more than ready to feel Danny’s dick instead. 

Then Danny slid himself further up the bed, lifting Steve’s legs up until they were hooked over Danny’s shoulders. “You ready?” Danny asked.

“I was ready a year ago when you started,” Steve said. 

Danny laughed, but Steve forgave him at the first burn of Danny’s dick pushing inside. Only then, as the latex resisted against skin, did Steve realize he hadn’t even noticed Danny putting on a condom at some point.

A smart move, even if part of Steve would’ve preferred nothing between them. That spoke of a little more conversation and a lot more intimacy than they were ready for, a level of commitment that Steve had never even considered. 

If he was considering it now, it was only because he knew he couldn’t have it. 

But enough about things he couldn’t have. Danny was his for now, and that was enough. The way Danny’s face changed, as if he’d landed on another planet as he finally slid the rest of the way into Steve’s body, that was enough. How it felt, being stretched by Danny, legs dangling off his back, his balls pressed up against Steve’s ass, that was enough. 

It had to be enough.

Danny slid out and back in slowly, the concentration on his face almost more of a turn-on than the feel of his dick sliding in and out. Almost. Because that feeling was something Steve wanted to memorize, wanted to be able to play back in his head when he was sleeping on the floor in some jungle thousands of miles away, having chosen duty over anything else he might want to do with his life. 

Danny leaned in, hands resting beside Steve on the bed, bending Steve practically in half before stopping, buried deep inside Steve’s body. “You with me?” Danny asked.

“Yeah.” Steve tried to thrust up, to make Danny move again, but he was trapped. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good, ‘cause you kind of looked like you were somewhere else there for a minute.” 

Danny pulled out and thrust back in slowly, over and over, and if Steve had been a little stuck in his own head before, Danny was leaving him no room to do that now. Each thrust back in seemed to go impossibly deeper, forcing all thoughts out of Steve’s mind except for Danny.

He leaned in even further, his hair falling around his face, brushing Steve’s face as Danny leaned in for a kiss that was wet and hot and perfect. Steve leaned up, chasing that kiss as Danny straightened, but a strong thrust put Steve back on the bed again. 

Danny was on his knees once more, gripping Steve’s thigh with one hand, his other wrapping around Steve’s dick, moving as fast as Danny was thrusting and it was too fast, it was going to be over too soon, and Steve wanted it to last. 

It couldn’t, though, not like this. He willed it back, tried to stop it, but he couldn’t, as he spilled over Danny’s hand, still thrusting into Danny until Danny stilled, as deep inside as he could get for a long moment. 

The tension left Danny’s body all at once, as he collapsed halfway onto Steve and half way on the bed, slipping out of Steve’s body in the process. Steve focused on breathing, until he felt Danny’s hand sliding along Steve’s arm, searching until he found Steve’s hand and intertwined their fingers. 

Steve’s dick made a valiant effort to get back up, but the most it managed was a little twitch. Sleep. It needed just a little sleep, and then it could have Danny again.

If this was the only night he got, he was going to make damn sure it was a long one. 

***


	6. Chapter 6

Steve climbed his way out of sleep, warm and sore in all the best places. He reached out, but the spot next to him was empty. He listened, but the bathroom was quiet and dark, so Danny wasn’t in there.

Steve got up and went into the living room. The kitchen was also silent with no lights, but there was a low light coming from the studio. Steve stopped in the doorway to the studio to see Danny standing naked, looking into a cabinet. 

“Hey,” Steve said. 

Danny’s smile was bright. “Hey.” 

“Was I that inspiring?” 

“Kind of, yeah.” Danny left the cabinet open, making Steve’s mouth water just by the way he moved as he crossed the room to stand in front of Steve. “I want to paint you.”

“What, like the Mona Lisa?”

“No. I want you as the canvas.” Danny reached out and traced a finger across the lines on one of Steve’s tattoos. “I envy whoever got to do these,” Danny said, voice low, eyes focused on where his finger was sliding over Steve’s bicep, before he looked up to meet Steve’s gaze. “I want my turn.”

Steve’s dick left no question as to whether or not he was on board with that. He’d wondered what it would be like to be the center of that focus, to feel that brush over his skin with the fine strokes Danny used. But…. “Lasting paint might be a problem,” Steve said, clearing his throat. 

Danny shook his head. “It’s just sugar, salt and some food coloring. I keep it for when Grace wants to paint with me. Started when she was really little, so she wouldn’t get sick if she swallowed it, but she likes using it, so I keep it around.” 

It took Steve a moment to find his voice. “It’s edible paint?” he said, at last.

Danny licked his lips as he nodded, and Steve swayed forward just a little before he caught himself. “Okay,” Steve said. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Where do you want me?”

Danny licked his lips again before he moved, grabbing a folded sheet on from on top of the cabinet. He spread it out on the floor, a pristine white space in a room that had color almost everywhere else. 

Steve got down onto the sheet a little awkwardly as Danny went to the cabinet and pulled out jars of paint. It was cool down on the floor, and the position made everything in the room look a little menacing by comparison. 

He looked up to see something he hadn’t noticed before – mirrored panels in the ceiling, reflecting large sections of the ground. It made Steve look like a slightly fractured puzzle waiting to be put back together again. 

The jars distracted him, clanking softly against the floor as Danny put them down. Steve looked up the length of Danny’s legs, across that magnificent ass. Danny turned, his dick already half hard, the sight sending a jolt through Steve’s body, as Danny knelt down on the sheet beside Steve, a pack of new brushes in his hand. 

“Mirrors on the ceiling?” Steve said. “Kinky.”

Danny laughed. “Actually, they help direct the light in the room to give me the best light to paint with.” 

“And you’ve never used them for other, more…interesting reasons?”

Danny shook his head slowly. “I’ve never had sex in here.” 

What was Steve supposed to that? Was it supposed to make him feel special? Or was it just a line? And did it really even matter when he wasn’t going to see Danny again after tomorrow? 

He ignored it, in favor of watching Danny as he studied Steve. “So what do you see?” Steve asked, repeating the question he’d asked the first time about Danny’s art.

Danny looked down the length of Steve’s body and back up again, eyes on Steve’s face. “Energy,” Danny said at last. “Strength.” He ran a finger down Steve’s chest, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Beauty.”

At least one of those words had never been applied to Steve before. “No scary waves with teeth?” Steve asked.

“Oh there are teeth,” Danny said. “You’re a big, scary soldier on the outside, no doubt.” 

When Danny didn’t finish, Steve prompted, “And on the inside?” 

“Heart.” 

Also another word that few people would apply to Steve, but true nonetheless, even if he tried to hide that side. But not from Danny. 

“And pain.”

It should be scary how well Danny could read him. Instead it just felt good to have one person actually understand him. “Okay, Van Gough, how do you paint all those things, then?” 

“With a lot of care.” 

Steve swallowed a whole lot of words he didn’t quite understand that wanted to come out, all at once. Danny lifted a brush, wet with paint, and slid it across Steve’s abdomen. The stroke curved up at the end, and Steve glanced up to the mirror to see a blue streak that reminded him of the early part of the process for the painting he’d seen Danny work on the past few days. 

But one stroke of blue paint did not a painting make. Steve’s eyes drifted back to Danny’s face, the intensity as he studied Steve’s body before placing each stroke far more interesting than where he was putting them.

The touch of the brush was electric, like little tiny shocks across Steve’s skin. He lost count of how many strokes Danny made, as Danny moved around him like he had the canvas on the easel, considering carefully before some strokes, making several nonstop at other times. 

Steve was so hard he thought he might come just from this if Danny didn’t do something soon. “Danny….” Steve said, after God only knew how long. His voice sounded strangled, even to his own ears.

“Shhh.” Danny put the brush down, studying Steve for a moment. “Almost there.”

Clearly he was trying to kill Steve. “Almost?” 

“Yeah, just need a little blending.” Danny ran a finger down the middle of Steve’s torso, stopping just short of Steve’s dick, and Steve groaned, lifting his hips up, but Danny didn’t seem to notice. 

Or maybe he did, since he picked up the pace, both hands in the paint on Steve’s body, turning the strokes into swirls. Steve gripped the sheet like a lifeline, as much to keep from grabbing Danny as to keep from grabbing himself and getting himself off. 

This might be torture, but it was the sweetest torture he’d ever experienced, and as much as he wanted to get off, he didn’t want it to end. 

Finally, Danny sat back on his knees, looking Steve up and down for a long moment. 

“Are you done?” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“Almost.” 

Steve’s groan was met with a soft laugh as Danny picked up the brush again, followed by a longer groan from Steve, as Danny ran the brush up the length of Steve’s dick. “Danny…please….”

“Almost done.”

Steve let out another groan, as Danny coated Steve’s dick carefully before putting the brush down and using his hand. “Danny, I can’t…I’m….”

Danny’s grip tightened, keeping Steve from going over the edge. He let out a frustrated growl, squeezing his eyes closed. “Not yet,” Danny said, his voice a near whisper. “We’re not finished.”

“I would be if you’d let me,” Steve grumbled, but there was no heat to it. He was already looking forward to the wave. 

Danny let him go and got up, putting the paint jars somewhere else. Where, Steve didn’t know, he was too busy lying there stuck somewhere between pleasure and agony. He opened his eyes at last and looked at the ceiling to see the finished—he assumed—work. 

The resemblance to the painting Danny had been working on was unmistakable. Not exactly the same, but so close that part of Steve hoped he never saw the painting again, because he wouldn’t be able to explain his reaction to it. 

Danny came back, studying Steve for a second before kneeling back on the ground. “You look amazing,” Danny said, leaning in for a kiss, only their lips touching. 

Steve leaned up into it, wanting more contact. He could still feel the impression of Danny’s brush and fingers everywhere, in every stroke of the drying paint, like Danny was touching him all over all at once, and he was going to lose it any second if Danny didn’t do something. 

Danny’s response was to slide something down Steve’s dick. A ring, Steve realized after a second, tight enough to keep him from coming, but not from feeling those sparks that really wanted to bring him over the edge. “The best thing,” Danny said against Steve’s lips, “about edible paint is that it tastes even better off of skin.”

Before Steve could process the words, Danny was licking his way down Steve’s body to take Steve’s dick in his mouth, his lips meeting the ring at the base that refused to let Steve come. Steve thrust up into Danny’s mouth, but it wasn’t enough, keeping Steve just on the edge. Danny pulled back, sucking on the tip of Steve’s dick before going down on it again and Steve pushed up, but it was no good, he couldn’t come. 

“Danny…please….”

“Don’t worry. I got you, babe.” Danny pulled the ring off, working Steve’s dick in a slick, tight grip. Steve came in seconds, senses on complete overload, barely aware of anything but Danny’s grounding touch until he came down to the realization that Danny was half covering him, his mouth doing things to Steve’s neck that would send him into orbit, if he was ever able to get it up again after that. 

“That…” Steve breathed, running a hand up Danny’s back, “that was…fuck.”

“That had been my intention,” Danny said, “but I don’t think I can wait that long.” He was pushing his hips into Steve’s abdomen, the friction almost too much against Steve’s cock. 

“Here,” Steve said, “let me.” 

He pulled Danny on top of him, sitting him up enough that Steve could get a good grip on Danny’s dick. He’d only managed a few strokes before Danny came, adding to the mess on their skin. 

Which didn’t seem to bother Danny, who immediately slumped over, smearing everything between them. 

But if he was okay with it, Steve wasn’t going to complain either. 

***

Steve rolled onto his side, curling around Danny under the covers, ducking his head into Danny’s back to hide from the early morning sunlight that even the shades couldn’t quite keep out. They’d fallen asleep on the floor, but eventually managed to shower and make their way to the bed, mostly clean. 

He’d just gotten comfortable when Danny stirred, twisting around until he was facing Steve without pulling out of Steve’s arms. “Morning,” Danny said.

“Morning.” Steve leaned in for a kiss, wincing a little as his muscles protested a shift of his legs. “Oh, man, it’s going to be a long flight if I stay this sore for a couple of days.”

“Regretting it?” 

Danny’s voice was light, but Steve saw through it. “No,” Steve said quietly, meeting Danny’s eyes. “I don’t regret a thing.” 

Danny’s mood lightened. “Not even the…” Danny thought for a moment before finishing, “third time?” 

“Hey, showers are slippery,” Steve said, settling in against Danny. “Sometimes things happen.”

“Yeah, but I suspect you’re sore because ‘things happen.’” 

Steve shut him up with a kiss, and then another kiss. Before he could go in for another one, Danny pulled back. “Last night,” Danny said, “you were about to tell me why you really joined the Navy, but then you got that call.”

“Yeah.” Steve rolled onto his back, taking Danny with him. “I joined for all those reasons I mentioned,” Steve said. “It was a family thing, and I wanted that connection with a grandfather I never knew and a father I only barely knew once my mom died.” 

“But….” Danny prompted after a moment. 

“I pushed myself,” Steve said. “Partly to see if I could—it’s possible I’m a little competitive.” 

“I am stunned by this revelation.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I think, though…I think maybe part of me just needed to prove something. I don’t know. You want to know any more than that, you’ll have to ask a shrink, because that’s about as far as I can get.”

“Thanks for answering, though.”

Danny’s words were soft, but sincere. “Yeah. I have to say, though…the Navy did end up becoming the family I hadn’t had since I was a teen.” Or at least it had until Freddie went and got himself killed, but he wasn’t about to drop that on Danny. Not now. 

“Well, family isn’t just about blood,” Danny said. “You look in the right place and you can find family anywhere.”

For the first time in years, Steve wondered if maybe he should try looking at home again.

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! (Apparently I can't count). Hope you've enjoyed the summer indulgence - thank you for all the kind words!! :):)

Steve shouldered his duffel and looked around the living room. He’d left nothing behind. Well, nothing except maybe Danny, who was standing there, stoic face on, like this was easy. 

It should be easy. They’d only known each other a few days. This shouldn’t be that hard. 

So why did he feel like he was leaving something important behind?

“So,” Danny said. “Have a nice life and try not to get killed, I guess?”

It shouldn’t be that hard. And yet somehow it was. 

It would be a risk—assuming Danny even wanted to try to make anything work. DADT was the law, and that alone should be reason enough not to go any further. 

Then again, Steve had never been very good at following rules. Freddie had done everything he could to encourage that side of Steve. 

Freddie would say Steve should take the chance.

“Listen,” Steve said, dropping his bag and taking a few steps towards Danny. “Hawaii is home—or, at least, it used to be.” Steve swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Maybe it can be again. I never seem to find a reason to use my leave, but maybe I should start. That is…I mean…if you might be interested in maybe—” 

Danny cut him off with a kiss. “Yeah,” Danny said. “I mean, I don’t even know what…but…yeah. Yeah. I’d be interested.”

Steve smiled as he leaned in for another kiss. “Good,” he muttered against Danny’s lips, before he kissed him again. “Good.”

A few kisses later, Steve stepped back completely, out of Danny’s embrace. “Okay, if I stay any longer, I’m not leaving anytime soon, and I already texted Dad I was on my way.” 

“Okay,” Danny said, locking his hands behind his back like if he didn’t he was going to end up tying Steve to the bed. 

Which was a thought Steve needed to forget if he was going to get out of there. 

“I’ll call you, okay?” Steve said. “We’ll make it work.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

With one last look, Steve turned and left before he ended up doing something really stupid.

***

He managed to get himself under control once he was in the car the team had left behind. It would have been so easy to just stay until he had to leave the island to meet up with his team, to hole up in Danny’s house and pretend like the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

But he couldn’t shake that feeling that Victor might still be on the island. And the only way to find out was to make it look like he was leaving. It would’ve been better if Steve could have left a guard on the house, but if Victor was playing them, he’d know, and he wouldn’t make a move until the coast really was clear.

If Steve was wrong, then at least he’d see his dad and maybe, just maybe, manage to make one more stop by Danny’s before he left the island.

If he was right, then this was the only way to protect Danny.

Steve’s phone rang. He looked down to see his Dad’s name on the screen. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “I’m on my way there now.” 

“Great, it’ll be good to see you. Glad you had a day to stick around.”

“Me, too.” Steve took a deep breath. “There’s a lot we should talk about.” 

“I look forward to it. Do you want me to—” 

“Hang on,” Steve said, as the phone beeped in his ear. Steve glanced at the message, his grip tightening on the phone as he saw the notification one of the silent alarms he’d ‘forgotten’ to remove from Danny’s windows had been activated. 

“Dad,” Steve said. “I have to take care of something before I head over okay? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

They said goodbye and hung up as Steve did a U-turn and headed back to Danny’s house. He was eight blocks away when his phone beeped again, this time with a picture from Danny.

Or of Danny, as it turned out, still in the clothes he’d been wearing when Steve left, but tied to a chair, duct tape over his mouth.

Steve was going to really enjoy it if he had to kill Hesse.

The phone rang, Danny’s name on the screen, only of course it wasn’t him. “Hesse,” Steve said, as he answered the phone.

“Not exactly the reception I would’ve expected you to give lover boy here,” Hesse said. 

“If you think this will get you your brother back,” Steve said, “you’re wrong.”

“I think it’ll get you over to Williams’s house,” Hesse said. “We can discuss the rest once you’re here. See you soon, Steven.” 

He hung up, and Steve gripped the steering wheel, pushing the gas even harder into the floor as he called Captain Sharp.

***

Steve parked the car a couple of blocks from Danny’s house. His team was already off the island. Sharp had suggested HPD might have someone closer than the people he was sending from Pearl, and Steve agreed, even though he didn’t want any more beat cops caught up in Hesse’s tornado. 

With any luck, this could be handled by the time the cavalry got there.

The alarm alert told Steve which window had been breached, so he used the same one, slipping into Danny’s bedroom as quietly as he could. Hesse usually had a few paid henchmen around—for him to be on his own, he must have really been keen on no one being able to contradict the Colombia story he’d put out there. 

The picture had shown Danny in a chair in the middle of the living room, so Steve crept through the bedroom to the mostly-closed door, listening for any noise on the other side. He heard the faint sound of talking, realized it was Hesse, and a one-sided conversation in…Japanese, maybe? It was hard to tell with Hesse’s terrible accent. 

But if it was a phone call, then maybe that was all the distraction that Steve needed to save Danny. 

He pulled the door open just enough to see Danny, still tied to the chair, and Hesse, staring at the front door as he talked, but with a gun to Danny’s head. 

So, no way to sneak in, and no way to startle Hesse without risking Danny’s life. Which left only one option.

Steve fiddled with one of the alarms on the windows until it was set the way he needed, stowed his gun in the back of his vest, where he could reach it over his head, but it wouldn’t be seen, hoped that Hesse had never seen Die Hard, and stepped out into the living room, hands down at his side. 

“Hesse.”

Hesse spun around to the side, yanking Danny and his chair with him. “Hands where I can see them, Steve.”

Steve put his hands up, eyes on Danny. “You okay?” At Danny’s nod, Steve turned his attention back to Hesse. “You’ve got me,” Steve said. “Let him go.”

“Why would I do that?” Hesse asked. “I mean, sure, I was going to just kill Danny here and leave, but after you stayed the night and made me sit in that cat-infested house across the street all night long and watch this place because you refused to leave, it was just too good to wait and let you watch, and then kill you, too. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”

“You kill us, you’ll never find Anton.” 

There was only a slight hesitation, but it was enough for Steve to know Hesse was bluffing when he said, “I know where Anton is.”

“Oh, so, then, you don’t need us?”

“Well, I might need you to get in there, but I don’t really need him, now, do I?”

Hesse pressed the gun more firmly to Danny’s head, and Steve said, “You hurt him, and I won’t help you do anything.”

“I know, but see, I’m really having trouble figuring out if I need you after all. I mean, I’m sure I could find some other military lacky to get me in to get my brother.”

“I guess you better decide fast, then,” Steve said. “Because my backup will be here any minute and I think you’ll have some trouble getting out of here with the place surrounded.”

“Hm, well, there’s a lot of military coming so I guess I really don’t need you, then, do I?”

Sirens started blaring from the bedroom, just enough to startle Hesse into pointing his gun at the room, and away from Danny. Steve took his shot, dropping Hesse before he could even turn his gun back towards Steve.

He checked Hesse first, kicking the gun away and making sure he was dead. Once that was done, Steve knelt down beside Danny to remove the tape. “You okay?” Steve asked, as he worked on the ropes.

“Yeah, just a little rope burn. I’ll be fine.” Danny nodded toward the bedroom. “Who came in behind you?”

“Oh, that.” Steve pulled out his phone and hit a button, and the alarm went silent. “Nobody. I set the silent alarms to not-so-silent and rigged the window to go down slowly. Triggers the same either way, going up or down.”

“Oh man,” Danny said, as Steve got him freed and he stood up. “I thought I was getting GI Joe, and I ended up with a total nerd.” 

Steve grinned at him. “Afraid so. Disappointed?”

Danny shook his head. “Not in the least,” he said, pulling Steve in for a kiss.

***

“So Danny,” John said, “Steve said you have an art show coming up?” 

Danny leaned against Steve, giving him a quick smile. “Yeah. Next month at a gallery downtown. It—” He stopped, eyes fixed on Grace. “Grace,” Danny said, “manners.”

Grace had started to get up from the table, but at Danny’s reminder, she sat back down. “May I be excused to go down to the beach?” she asked. 

“You may.” Danny watched her go. “It’ll be nice,” Danny said, going back to John’s question, “getting to show this one,” he nodded at Steve, “some more of my stuff before he goes back to whatever classified place he won’t talk about.” 

Truthfully, Steve didn’t know where he was being sent next. He hadn’t asked when the captain had given a month of vacation he was more than overdue for. He’d just said thank you and asked Danny to stay with him until Danny’s house was no longer a crime scene. 

Of course, he’d meant in a hotel, but when Dad had insisted they stay there in front of Danny, then Danny had insisted they stay, which was why they were sitting on the lanai at John’s, having dinner. 

At least Steve had been spared an awkward conversation with his father, since his dad had seemed to have already figured out what was going on and didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at Steve and Danny sleeping in the same bed.

Though doing that in the same house with his father meant they hadn’t been able to do anything other than sleep, but Danny’s house would be officially his tomorrow, and Steve had every intention of making the most of the next two weeks or so.

“Danno,” Grace yelled from the beach. “I think I found a turtle!” 

“I’d better go check that,” Danny said, pushing out of his seat, using Steve’s thigh for leverage, something Steve had no problem with at all. “Last time she thought she’d found a turtle it was a crab. A really mean one.”

Steve watched Danny jog down the beach, enjoying the view, before turning his attention to his father, who’d apparently been studying him for some time. “I like Danny,” John said. “He’s a good guy.”

There was something in his tone, but years of experience said Steve would just have to wait it out to find out what. “He is.”

“And Grace is a sweet kid.” 

“Yeah.” Steve looked down at the two of them on the beach. Grace had been over a few times during the week, and Steve was pretty sure if she stayed one more day she’d have him convinced to buy her a pony. 

“So then why are you going back to the Navy?”

Steve blinked. “I wasn’t aware I had a choice. I signed up—not going back would be illegal. Also, I like my job.”

“So get a new one.”

Like that thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few times in the past week? But he loved making a difference with his job the way he did, even if it still stung that he’d had to leave Freddie behind. And he didn’t know where else he’d find that. “It’s not that easy, Dad.”

“The governor came to see me a few days ago,” John said. “Wanted me to run her new task force.”

“That’s great—you deserve it.”

John shook his head. “I’m too old to take on something like that. And there’s too much history here with HPD for me.” He took a drink. “You, on the other hand, have the command experience, the ability to work with the military on the island, and you don’t have the history with HPD.” 

He couldn’t process it at first. “What?”

“I’m just saying, I could put in a word with her, if you’re interested.”

“Why would she hand me a task force? She doesn’t even know me.”

“She knows me,” John said. 

Steve thought about a lot of possibilities he hadn’t even known existed three minutes ago. “It’s crazy,” he said, watching Danny and Grace play on the beach. “I barely know him.”

“Son, the one regret I have about your mother is that I didn’t ask her to marry me on our first date.” When Steve didn’t respond, John asked, “Would you rather hide your relationship and worry about getting kicked out of the Navy? Or stay here and run your own task force, and come home to them every night?”

Put like that, there was no contest. But it wasn’t just what about what Steve wanted. “I’ll talk to Danny,” he said. “If he’s in, then I’m in.”

***

“Why do you smell like the alley behind the Lucky Belly restaurant?” Danny asked quietly. 

Steve snagged a glass of wine from a passing tray and tried to look as if they were discussing art. “I think the more important question, Daniel, is why you know what the alley behind the Lucky Belly restaurant smells like.”

“Maybe because you dragged me there to make out after I made that joke about getting lucky when we ate there.”

“Oh, right.” Steve took a drink. “We did have to chase a perp down an alley today, actually. Not that one, but still, they all kind of smell alike. I had to tackle him in a pile of trash, and there’s really only so much I could do to get that smell out and still make it here in time for your show.” 

Danny’s sigh was long-suffering, but his expression was so fond it totally negated the sigh. “I suppose I should at least be glad you made it on time, though I really was hoping you’d get here a little before the opening.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I have a new piece I want to show you.” 

Danny led him to another room. On the wall was a sort of crumpled piece, that looked almost like a painted sheet stiffened with starch until…. “Daniel.”

“Yes, Steven?”

“Is that the sheet that we….”

“Yes, Steven.” 

Steve finished his glass of wine and grabbed another one. “You’re not selling this, right?”

Danny shook his head. “Display only.”

“Oh, good.” Steve took a long drink. “So, um…do you still have those paints?”

“I do.”

“Oh, good.” 

Danny took Steve’s hand in his and leaned in. “Have I mentioned that I’m glad you decided to stay?”

“That makes two of us.” 

“Three,” Danny said. “Grace told me so the other day.” Before Steve could come up with a response, Danny nudged him. “Did you happen to see the name of the new piece?” 

Steve shook his head, keeping Danny’s hand in his as he got close enough to see the panel beneath it. “Home,” he read, turning to look at Danny.

Danny’s shrug wasn’t nearly as casual as he probably intended. “You asked what I saw that night. So….”

Steve squeezed Danny’s hand. “Yeah,” he said. “I kind of did, too.”

\---  
END

For anyone wondering, this is my best attempt at creating what Danny's painting looked like. It's hard to get the appearance of deep brush strokes in photoshop, but it gives the idea.

[](https://ibb.co/huAWsy)


End file.
